


Honey

by Evandar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Consensual Underage Sex, First Time, Fluff, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Marauders' Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-17 14:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evandar/pseuds/Evandar
Summary: R/S Games 2017 - Day 14 - Team SiriusSirius’ reality has changed. And while he’s never needed sex to know that he loves Remus, now that they’ve done it, the world seems more concrete.





	Honey

**Author's Note:**

> **Team:** Sirius  
>  **Title:** Honey  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Warnings:** Implied consensual underage sex, loss of virginity  
>  **Genres:** Fluff/Romance  
>  **Word Count:** 1500  
>  **Summary:** Sirius’ reality has changed. And while he’s never needed sex to know that he loves Remus, now that they’ve done it, the world seems more concrete.  
>  **Notes:** Thanks to the mods for their patience and for running this wonderful fest for so many years. Thanks also go to my beta for her patience and to R for her endless support. Also, please excuse an ace!author’s attempts at talking about sex-feels. The prompt kind of demanded it.  
>  **Prompt:**  #81 - painting: "Dans Le Lit" by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, 1893  
> 

Remus is asleep. Sirius is careful to lie as still as humanly possible so not to disturb him: the full moon is in a few days and Remus never seems to be able to get enough rest when it’s close. Tonight, though, he’s fallen asleep and it’s Sirius who’s restless. His mind is whirring. He lies still and keeps his eyes wide open, studying Remus’ face in the moonlight filtering through the bed curtains. He keeps his breathing even, matching every inhale and exhale to Remus’ own in the hopes that it’ll help him drop off eventually, but it’s not worked for him so far. Instead, he’s too transfixed by the planes and shadows of Remus’ face and the dark sweep of his eyelashes – the way the moonlight makes his hair shine silver against the pillow. He’s enchanting like this: perfectly at peace with the world and the moon, and Sirius sneaks out a questing hand under the blankets so that he can feel that Remus is real. 

Their fingertips brush. Remus doesn’t stir. He exhales long and slow and Sirius exhales with him, his breath shaking as it escapes his lips. Remus’ fingers are solid beneath his own and unnaturally warm. Remus is always like a furnace at this time of the month and it’s the reason why they’re lying so far apart; Sirius doesn’t really mind the warmth, by Remus can hardly stand it. He presses down lightly, so that the pointed tips of Remus’ claws dig into the pads of his fingers. The pain brings with it a strange sort of reality that plain physical contact didn’t.

Remus is here. Remus is real. They’re lying in bed together and Sirius isn’t dreaming. 

He licks his lips and sighs on his next exhale. Remus snuffles faintly and stretches out his hand, linking their fingers in his sleep. Sirius feels his lips twitch – Remus is still trying his best to ground him even though he’s unconscious.

He shifts slightly, shuffling just a little bit closer; he ignores the ache in his body and the twinge of pain that shoots up his spine; ignores the faintly crusty feeling between his thighs. None of that is as important as getting as being close to Remus, and even though he knows he’ll feel pretty disgusting in the morning, he can’t bring himself to care. It’s probably strange, but he likes the feel of Remus still on him; still _in_ him. It’s part of what makes it real.

He wiggles ever so slightly closer, stopping when Remus shifts and sighs and turns onto his back. Sirius holds his breath, but Remus sleeps on; his face is still turned towards Sirius, and the moonlight reveals the curve of his lips and the faint smile on his face. A swell of ridiculous joy builds behind Sirius’ ribs and he turns his head, burying his face in the pillow to hide his wild grin and smother the laughter that threatens to escape.

On the other side of the curtains, in what seems like a different reality, Peter’s snores stutter and wheeze and James mumbles something about Quidditch and Evans. Here, surrounded by the canopy of Remus’ curtains, feels like something from one of those Muggle fairytales about true love and happily ever after. It feels like everything Sirius never expected to have, and the realisation that he and Remus have – that they _are_ \- is world-shattering.

There’s a noise next to him. Remus’ hand detangles from his own, only to slide up his arm and leave a path of goosebumps in its wake. Sirius lifts his head. This close to the moon, Remus’ eyes reflect green in the dark. If he hadn’t been so used to it, it might have been frightening. Knowing full-well that Remus can see him, he mouths “sorry” into the shadows between them.

Remus makes a low noise in his throat – something half-animal and mostly incoherent. He grips Sirius by the elbow and pulls, dragging Sirius towards the furnace of his body. Sirius goes willingly, tucking himself into Remus’ embrace and nestling close. Remus smells of sweat and fur, and Sirius buries his face into Remus’ neck, breathing him in and sighing softly.

“Go to sleep,” Remus mumbles. His voice is little more than a rumble in his chest, but Sirius can hear the smile on his face. 

…

He wakes slowly. He’s too warm and he feels sluggish. His body, when he moves, aches and itches and he grimaces slightly as he lifts his head. He yawns widely, cracking his jaw and grimacing at the dryness in his mouth. He smacks his lips together and presses his face into the pillow to smother the sound.

“I did tell you to use a cleaning charm,” he hears Remus say. It sounds as if he’s speaking from a distance, and Sirius has to turn his head and open his eyes to make sure that Remus isn’t standing over him, looming, his gleaming prefect badge pinned in place like some sort of weirdo.

He isn’t. He’s still in bed, still at Sirius’ side. He’s still got that sappy little smile on his face from the previous night, and Sirius feels warmth and affection bubble up inside of him. He feels like sliding closer – like kissing that smile and then kissing Remus for an eternity afterwards. He doesn’t. His morning breath is probably toxic this close to the full moon, and the heat radiating from Remus’ body is practically cooking him alive as it is. Besides, his plan would involve quite a bit of movement, and Sirius feels like his bones have been replaced by syrup. Remus, he thinks, has melted him. For all that he remembers falling asleep in Remus’ arms, they’ve separated during the night. They’re back at opposite sides of the bed; Sirius can feel the curtain against his back instead of the duvet. Despite the distance, he feels like he’s fallen asleep in front of the fireplace. He shifts and wriggles into something approximately comfortable and he slides a hand out under the sheets, reaching out for Remus again. Remus grasps his hand under the covers, and Sirius can feel that his claws have grown even longer overnight. They’re lucky it’s the weekend: Remus won’t have to slip off between every lesson to trim them back down.

They’re lucky, because it means that James and Peter will leave them alone and they can stay like this for as long as they can stand to. 

“Cleaning charms are awful,” Sirius mumbles. It sounded better in his head than it did out loud, but that’s mostly to do with his voice breaking towards the end and dropping into some kind of unholy imitation of his father. He clears his throat. “Itchy.”

Remus snorts. His eyes are mostly closed, but Sirius can see the sunlight catching on his amber irises; it makes them glint gold and wild, completely at odds with his voice, which seems to melt around Sirius in the morning light. Between the light and the warmth and the softness of Remus’ voice, he almost feels like he’s drowning in honey. “You stay like that much longer,” Remus says, “and you’ll stink.”

Romance, Sirius thinks drily, thy name is Remus John Lupin. 

He can’t bring himself to voice any sort of sarcasm. All traces of bitterness in his dark, Black heart have been washed away by the light. So instead of being a prick like he usually would, he makes some daft comment about smelling like Remus and that not being so bad, even though he knows that Remus is right. He _really_ needs a shower. But what he also knows is that if he puts off going for one long enough then he’s in with a chance of Remus joining him. And that means… He grins. Something of his plan must show in his face – in the wide smile that he can feel stretching the corners of his mouth – because Remus groans and laughs all at once and rolls onto his side so that he can face Sirius properly.

“You’re going to be a nightmare, Black, I know it,” he says.

“The worst,” Sirius confirms, because yes. He is. He’s spent a night with Remus in his arms and in _him_ and now that he’s had it, he doesn’t think he can ever go without it. A night without Remus, he thinks, would break him. He’s been in love with this idiot since the Hat put him into Gryffindor and Remus had slipped into the seat next to him with a shy smile and worried eyes, and while he’s never needed sex to confirm it, now that they’ve had it, the world is more stable. Concrete. It’s soft warmth and fuzzy edges. It’s a promise of home that’s nothing like the misery of his childhood and the howling abyss of madness he grew up in.

“No regrets, then?” Remus asks.

“Apart from the lack of cleaning charms,” Sirius tells him, and under the blankets, Remus’ hand tightens around his own.


End file.
